


February 2017

by orphan_account



Series: 2017 365 Day Writing [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 14:59:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16621199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A compilation of all my writings from my February 2017 writing challenge.





	1. Flangiprop Day 1

Here’s something you should know about me and my school.

My teachers are all jerks.

Well, almost all my teachers.

My language arts teacher is pretty cool.

Hey, Mr. G!

Anyways, back to the bad teachers.

In all, I have three other teachers. Mr. Drangopox, Mrs. Leandro, and Mr. Bolfry.

Weird names, I know. Makes you wonder who their parents were. Like, did they actually also have that last name, or were they just evil to their kids? I really, really want to know about that.

Anyways,

They aren’t the nicest of people. Mrs. Leandro has thrown math books and staplers multiple times, Mr. Bolfry had literally made us run laps in music as if we didn’t get enough in his gym class, and Mr. Drangopox tried to kill the whole classroom with some weird toxins.

So yeah, my teachers aren’t the best.

But I feel like they target me. I have no clue why they would do this, really! The only thing I’ve ever done was annoy the living crap out of them by using a word I made up around them without telling them the meaning! (By the way, the word was flangiprop. I meant ‘I hate you with all of my living being.’)

So you have to understand why I decided to give them an honorable mention when I was chosen to give a speech at my graduation.

“If I would have all of my teachers come up here to the stage, please.” Mr. G grinned ear to ear as he got up and made his way towards me, while my other teachers groaned and took their time. If they were any slower, I swear, the flowers I had bought for them would have wilted.

As my teachers stood in line beside me, I smiled and pulled out a large box I had bought the day before. Out of it, I drew out eight different flowers. Only four were the same, and those were for my grand finale.

“Okay, so has anybody here heard of floriography?” A few people raised their hands, but others looked more confused than ever. I nodded in acknowledgment. “Okay, so what that means is pretty much what flowers represent. A red rose means love and seduction, all that good stuff. Today, I will be speaking to my teachers though this language.”

I pulled out a yellow rose and handed it to Mr. G. “A yellow rose is a symbol of optimism and friendship. I feel like this represents our relationship because you’re always optimistic that you can improve my grade, and I always shut you down.”

He smiled as I handed him the flower before I looked to Mr. Dragopox, who was standing with his arms crossed. For him, I pulled out a single pink carnation and handed it to him. “This is a pink carnation. It represents that I will never forget you. Which, sadly, I won’t, since you nearly killed me.”

Next, I looked at Mrs. Leandro and pulled out my third flower. “This is an asylum flower. It represents worth beyond beauty. And believe me, you need to have that. No offense, but you aren’t the most good-looking person I’ve ever met, Ariana.”

Her face turned red as I looked to Mr. Bolfry, handing him one of my last flowers. “I picked this out for you, Mr. Bolfry because it represents just you. Childish.” There were sounds of laughter and giggles throughout the crowd. Even Mr. G tried his best to cover his snickers with his hand. I smirked.

“Some of you might think that I’m joking. What I have to say to that, is," I took a deep breath, "flangiprop."

“Happy graduation!”

“De-”

“Ten-”

“Tion!”


	2. Yin and Yang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Witches are not born.
> 
> They are created.
> 
> Instead of coming out of their mother’s womb, they appear from trees, most commonly willows. When a witch or wizard is about to be born, the days prior will be hectic, to say the least. The tree with fizzle and pop like a soft drink and energy will radiate from it while the child is being created from inside its trunk. The reason the tree is so crazy is because it is holding the magic that the child will have. The more magic there is, the longer this process will continue.
> 
> This is all fact in the world where witches and magic does exist.
> 
> But not in the way you would expect.
> 
> You see, they do not have warts on their noses or minty green skin.
> 
> Instead, they are quite different. More complicated. More... determined.
> 
> How, you might ask?
> 
> Well, I can show you with a story. Not just any story, though.
> 
> This is the story of Valerie, the witch who wasn't meant to be.

Witches are not born. The same goes for wizards.

They are created.

Instead of coming out of their mother’s womb, they appear from trees, most likely willows. When a witch or wizard is about to be born, the days prior will be hectic, to say the least. The tree with fizzle and pop like a soft drink and energy will radiate from it while the child is being created from inside its trunk. The reason the tree is so crazy is because it is holding the magic that the child will have. The more magic there is, the longer this process will continue.

When the child finally does come out, everything goes back to normal, since the magic that once encaptured the tree has been put into the magical being. They will then be left to fend for themselves against the cruel world they are forced into.

Another thing; they do not come out as infants. Instead, they come out at the age of three years old. This is because they have to be aware enough of the magic the behold, so forests don’t get burnt down as soon as they blink. A good thing too, or else there wouldn’t be any more trees to help keep their kind alike.

But the animals of the forest had never seen a tree hold this much power before. Instead of the fizzle and popping that usually came, the tree practically boiled, deafening them whenever one of the bubbles were popped. The magic coming off of the tree was thicker than a wool blanket, forcing the poor things to get away before they choked.

Nothing like this had ever been seen before. What was happening?

Instead of only lasting a few days, the process lasted for weeks. The animals soon grew used to things flying past as they were swept from the tree’s forcefield-like barrier. The willow’s leaves, surprisingly, had somehow stayed attached to their vines during this process, although they did wing back and forth quite rapidly.

And then it stopped.

There wasn’t any warning or signs of it doing so, but the tree did stop. Its vines fell to the willow’s trunks with a thump and the noise stopped. The animals slowly came out of their hiding places, all looking to the tree that was now calm. Why had it stopped? Why had it started?

The sound of blabbering coming from a small child answered it all.

A single deer stepped forward, trying to get a better look at the thing that had come from the hurricane of destruction. Its mother snorted at the young deer, but it didn’t pay any mind. His mother would be fine.

As he avoided stepping on some of the twigs and stones that had been thrown about, the little deer finally made his way in front of the gigantic tree in front of him. Using his head to push aside the vines, he looked into the space between the green ropes that hung down and the trunk.

A little girl. Well, a little witch. She had pasty white skin and wavy ink-black hair, which lay on her shoulders. She wore a black dress that went down to her knees, along with some black tights and a white undershirt. She looked at the deer, her piercing violet gaze cause his knees to almost buckle. It wasn’t her that made his eyes widen in shock, though. It was the body next to her.

The body of a young boy.

He was breathing, so it was apparent that the small thing was at least alive. His light brown hair covered his eyes as he slowly breathed in and out, wearing a plain red tee-shirt and black pants. The girl laid a protective arm over the young wizard as if she were protecting him.

This was strange. A witch or wizard had never before been born with a sibling if that was what they were. And what about the magic from the trees? Was it so powerful because it would have to be split down the middle between the wizard and the witch, or was it because they would both be that powerful?

It didn’t take long for them to find out, because when the deer took a step forward the witch’s eyes glowed as she raised her hand, sending a bolt of magic towards the ground. A bubble-like force surrounded them, impossible for people- or animals- to get in. A force field.

Only the strongest of wizards and witches could do that.

She shook the boy awake, making him let out a soft groan as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. He looked at the bubble forcefield and squealed with excitement. “Bubble! Bubble!” He reached towards the magical thing, trying to touch it. The girl frantically reached for his hand but was too late.

His finger collided with the magic as he giggled, before a bright purple light shone for half a second. The boy screamed, pulling his finger back as the magical thing exploded.

This was much more then normal magic. This magic was plain unstable.


End file.
